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course.... Of course I can understand that it’s a philosoph-
ical novel and written to advocate an idea....’ Kolya was
getting mixed by now. ‘I am a Socialist, Karamazov, I am
an incurable Socialist,’ he announced suddenly, apropos of
nothing.
‘A Socialist?’ laughed Alyosha. ‘But when have you had
time to become one? Why, I thought you were only thir-
teen?’
Kolya winced.
‘In the first place I am not thirteen, but fourteen, four-
teen in a fortnight,’ he flushed angrily, ‘and in the second
place I am at a complete loss to understand what my age has
to do with it? The question is what are my convictions, not
what is my age, isn’t it?’
‘When you are older, you’ll understand for yourself the
influence of age on convictions. I fancied, too, that you were
not expressing your own ideas,’ Alyosha answered serenely
and modestly, but Kolya interrupted him hotly:
‘Come, you want obedience and mysticism. You must ad-
mit that the Christian religion, for instance, has only been
of use to the rich and the powerful to keep the lower classes
in slavery. That’s so, isn’t it?’
‘Ah, I know where you read that, and I am sure someone
told you so!’ cried Alyosha.
‘I say, what makes you think I read it? And certainly no
one told so. I can think for myself.... I am not opposed to
Christ, if you like. He was a most humane person, and if
He were alive to-day, He would be found in the ranks of
the revolutionists, and would perhaps play a conspicuous